My Happy Ending
by candy4yourEYEZ
Summary: Canada is in a relationship with America, until he finds out something... AmeriCana, UsUk/Joker, and hinted Germancest Germany x Prussia and Austria/Hungary. Rated T for language and... scenarios?


Canada and America were meant to go together. Up, down, cold, warm, quiet, obnoxious… What one was, the other wasn't, and vice versa. Perfect opposites that fit together like matching puzzle pieces, the borders unguarded. It was amazing, and beautiful, and everything Canada wanted. The two of them were meant to be. America promised him a happy ending, in fact, those were his exact words. _"I'm the hero, so you'll be the princess, and I'll carry you off and we'll love each other forever, and you'll get a happy ending!"_

Maybe that was why it hurt so much when America left. Somehow, the ache Canada had had when he was recognized by no one and ignored tripled when he tasted love but then had it wrenched away. He'd finally thought he'd had it right, finally believed that love existed. He was held up so high, on such a breakable thread, but knew that America would catch him if he fell. But he didn't.

Canada found out at a world meeting. America was talking to some of the only people who didn't hate him for stealing oil or interfering in wars, so Canada took the seat at his side, waiting patiently for the meeting to start. He knew that however long America talked to the other countries, when the meeting ended it would be just the two of them, and Canada would be the only one America cared about. Or so he thought.

America said that he wanted to go to McDonald's- big surprise there- and told Canada to go home and wait for him. He said he'd make it "worth your while," with a suggestive wink and grin. Canada believed him. Because what reason would the 'hero' have to lie, to pretend? Why would he want- or need- anyone or anything else? Canada put up with a lot of America's crap, and he didn't think anyone else would keep up with his brother's attitude and ideas. America was everything Canada wanted, even if he had some traits that he didn't like.

Canada was in his car, and had started the engine when he realized that he'd left Kumajiro behind! The bear had probably crawled out of his pack during the meeting, but, occupied with thoughts about America, Canada had forgotten to check for him like he usually did. Canada hurried back into the meeting building, sure that finding Kumajiro would only take a little while. He might be impossible to find on the tundra (that bear was a pain in the ass during winter, he didn't get that the concept of hide-and-seek was an indoor thing), but an all-white polar bear would surely stand out here.

He'd searched the meeting room, and found him sleeping under the table. "Damn lazy bear," he muttered, walking out mumbling about all the trouble Kumajiro caused him. Well, he _was_ walking… until he heard the noises emanating from the hall closet. It was probably Spain and Romano again, he reflected, they've put that closet to a lot of use over the years.

"Birdie?" Prussia poked Canada in the forehead. "Why'd ya stop in the middle of the hallway?" Oh. Canada'd thought that he kept moving.

"Just thinking that it was probably Spain and Romano in the closet again," Canada joked weakly, the end of his sentence trailing off as he saw the expression on Prussia's face. "What?"

"Birdie… That ain't Tony and his boy toy in there…"

"Then who? Russia and China? I don't think your brother would drag Italy in there." The knot in Canada's stomach got even tighter as Prussia's face changed from realization to shock to revulsion to a grim determination.

"Those bastards…" Prussia growled; marching over to the closet door and yanking it open in one swift movement. And nothing could have prepared Canada for what he saw next.

America and England tumbled out of the closet, entangled in a way that made Canada want to either castrate the both of them, or throw up. Canada decided that the first option could wait until he had thoroughly emptied his stomach.

Prussia followed Canada to the men's room, holding his long, blonde hair out of his face as he 'parked a custard,' as England would say. Wait- no. No thoughts about England. Or America. Don't think about those two lying, cheating, dickhea- NO THOUGHTS.

"They're bastards, I hope you know that. I thought you knew already, that's why I didn't bring it up, I'm sorry, birdie, I'm so, so, sorry." Prussia sounded truly upset, but Canada was too bitter to realize it.

"What would you know. You're the 'awesome Prussia,' you don't have to worry about relationships, and finding someone that actually loves you, and all the other shit people have to go through. I bet everyone knew about this behind my back, everyone! And no one decided to tell me, they just thought I was America's whore, there to spread my legs whenever he called, just plain damn invisible Canada, Canada that no one actually cares about-"

"Stop it! Stop with the fucking pity party already!" Canada lifted his tearstained face to meet Prussia's, confused by Prussia's sudden change of tone. "I do know what you're going through, how the hell do you think I felt when Austria and that bitch Hungary created their own fucking empire together! He left me, birdie, left me for my best friend, and I didn't realize until the rest of the world did."

"S-sorry…" Canada whimpered, not really knowing what else to say. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his twin, his _lover_, was cheating on him with the man that had raised the both of them for the most part. "B-but… why?" He gave in to sobbing; hoping vainly that the tears would somehow alleviate the pain. They didn't, all they managed to accomplish was soaking Canada's pants as he curled into himself.

"I don't know, birdie. I don't know. I wish I did, but I guess that the fuckers had their own dumbass reasons for the shit they did. I'm just sorry that it was you that ended up getting hurt." Prussia wrapped an arm around Canada's shoulders, holding him tight. "Here, soak my shirt instead of your nice pants. Tear stains are a bitch to get out of clothes, but West is a genius at doing laundry, he'll fix my shirt. I'm not so sure about your fancy pants though."

Canada laughed despite himself, laughed through the tears coating his cheeks and the ache deep inside that he didn't think would be going away any time soon.

Canada laughed- truly laughed- for the first time in a long while.

And he laughed later, later when he came back from the meeting and Gilbert had gone back to Ludwig. Because even though Gilbert had Ludwig, he had no one.

And if the pain wouldn't go away, then he would make himself go away instead. It wasn't like anyone cared, anyway. He couldn't live with every thought, every moment, every word reminding him of America.

So he got away from it all. He felt bad for his people, being Americans would be a sad change when Canada became the 51st state. But that was the only regret.

And Canada died laughing, laughing at what he imagined America's expression would be to come home expecting a willing lover, and instead found his brother, soaking in a veritable bath of blood from the numerous cuts he had made all over his body. Dead in the bathtub they shared.

Canada was right, America's face was something to see. He'd come back to say that what had happened with England was just a misunderstanding, that Canada was his true love. No one answered the door, so he let himself in. But no one answered his calls either. No matter how much he yelled, all that answered was a faint _drip… drip… drip…_ that sounded like it came from upstairs. He walked up, thinking that Canada was in the bath and had fallen asleep or something, and grinned at the thought of waking him up.

That grin fell off his face the second he walked through the door. The water in the bathtub wasn't clear, it was a deep crimson. Only Canada's head was showing, leaning on the lip of the tub, a ghastly grin stretched across his deathly pale face, the tips of his hair a light pink from remaining in the water.

When he gingerly lifted Canada out of the blood, knowing it was too late, and laid him on the bathroom floor, he saw the incisions his brother had made. Incisions… in the shape of words.

_So much for my happy ending_

Inscribed over and over, on his arms, his legs, his torso, all but his face. His beautiful face, mocking America in death.

Prussia laughed too, at the funeral, when he saw what Canada did to himself. Laughed in the rain when France and England (the other nations decided that the two men, acting as 'father figures' to the boy, had the most right) lowered 'birdie' into the ground. "Guess Mattie got the last laugh," he said, smirking. "That kid always knew how to hit where it hurt."

And America cried.

* * *

AUTHORESS' RANDOM RAMBLE

Hoped you love it! This is my first time really writing angst... And i'm trying to shorten my rambles, as i do go on so... So, you know the drill: Realize that I OWN NOTHING, read it, love it, review...

And I think I broke my foot at Tae Kwon Do today... reviews help my foot heal better! (so would ice packs, but my mom threw those away when our kitchen was getting redone...) So, review and heal my foot! (please, testing for the next level belt is in 4 days! (the 25th...) and i'll get my 2nd dan red and black belt! That's only one level away from BLACK BELT! I'LL BE A BADASS IN A SPORT THAT ACTUALLY DID ORIGINATE IN KOREA!)

And that's why you should review. And because the first person to correctly identify the song i used (and who it's by) gets a one-shot of their choice (any pairing, can be AU, but not smut. sorry. I really can't write smut...)

less than three. less than three.


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